Each Touch a Promise
by HopefulR
Summary: #7 in the Reconnecting series. Sequel to The Land of Might-Have-Been. Spoilers for the Soong arc. Relationships progress in unexpected ways.
1. Chapter 1

**Each Touch a Promise  
Story #7 in the Reconnecting Series  
**by HopefulR

Genre: T/T, romance, AU  
Rating: PG-13, for language and courtin' stuff  
Archive: Please ask me first.  
Disclaimer: _Star Trek: Enterprise_ is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.  
Spoilers: Through "The Augments," plus oblique references to the Vulcan arc.  
Summary: Sequel to my story "The Land of Might-Have-Been." Now that they have acknowledged their feelings for each other, Trip and T'Pol struggle not to dishonor her marriage. On Earth, Lorian makes an impression on Admiral Forrest and Ambassador Soval; and Lorian and Karyn embark on a shy courtship.

A/N: I never expected the Lorian storyline to continue beyond "Might-Have-Been." I assumed that story was my last, as usual. Besides, it was AU, and good gravy, it would mean doing a makeover of the rest of the season, even if I had other story ideas, which I didn't.

However, the response to "Might-Have-Been" was very strong, and quite positive. (Thank you all.) At this point the characters, having quietly taken on a life of their own, tapped me on the shoulder and began telling me what to do. I just listened, and typed like mad.

Thanks again to my betas Jenna (my Lorian touchstone) and slj91 (my fact-checker extraordinaire).

* * *

**Each Touch a Promise**

_Chapter 1_

Archer could tell there was something subtly different about the way Trip and T'Pol were interacting, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

After _Enterprise_ left Spacedock for the Borderland, Trip stayed on the bridge for a couple of hours, monitoring engineering from his station before he went below to do some fine-tuning. So Archer had a chance to observe the two of them, out of the corner of his eye.

They went about their duties as efficiently as always, exchanging data, monitoring the upgrades and refitted systems, consulting with each other as they tweaked various calibrations. Their discussions were lively, punctuated by Trip's joshing and T'Pol's dry humor. Archer saw the same comfortable closeness between them, the solid support, the gratitude at simply being together...

Wait. There _was_ something missing. The sadness was gone.

All these months, ever since their budding relationship had been derailed by T'Pol's necessary marriage to Koss, Archer had watched as she and Trip carefully and determinedly channeled their feelings into a deep, nurturing bond of friendship. Yet there was a more powerful emotion under the surface that, though left unfed, stubbornly refused to die. Because of this, Archer had always sensed a wistful melancholy from them both...a lingering sorrow for what might have been.

Now he saw no sign of it. In its place was an irrepressible sparkle in T'Pol's eyes, and a smile that Trip could never quite get off his face, no matter what he was doing. They were hopeful again. But why? What had changed?

Archer sighed as he swiveled absently back and forth in his new command chair, studying Trip's "Try not to hit that button!" button. He'd missed something again.

* * *

Trip stopped by his quarters after his duty shift to shower and change into casual clothes before heading to T'Pol's for their evening chat. They usually made a point not to dress up for each other, to keep things on more of a friendshippy level, but Trip just felt like doing it tonight.

As T'Pol ushered him into her cabin, Trip wasn't at all surprised to see that she was wearing off-duty clothes, too. He smiled in greeting. "I'd almost forgotten what it's like to be on a ship that isn't falling apart at the seams."

T'Pol nodded as she prepared tea for them—chamomile this evening. "I had also lapsed in my routine of checking all available sensors, as it has been so long since all sensors have been available."

Trip took a seat at his usual place on one side of T'Pol's low meditation table, and watched her pour their tea. She was wearing a loose, sand-colored robe of fine Vulcan linen over her lounging clothes. It was a modest thing, covering her from neck to ankle, but the way it swayed gently as she moved, softly outlining her figure, was mesmerizing to him. She had a glow about her tonight, a serenity that enhanced her beauty. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

T'Pol knelt gracefully across the table from Trip. As she handed him his tea, she had the oddest thought that his eyes looked bluer tonight, his dimples deeper when he smiled, his face more boyishly handsome than usual. Most illogical.

She attempted to begin their evening in the usual fashion. "Was your day eventful?"

Trip laughed out loud. "Well, now...aside from Lorian telling us his theory that your marriage might not last long after all, and you and me blurting out our undying love for each other, and no less than twelve people telling me I've been grinning like an idiot since we left Spacedock...it's been pretty dull. How 'bout you?"

The tiniest hint of a smile played on T'Pol's lips. "Though I have not...grinned idiotically, I have been markedly distracted today," she confessed. "Albeit pleasantly so."

They gazed contentedly at one another, their tea forgotten.

"It feels different now, bein' together," Trip murmured softly.

"Indeed," T'Pol concurred.

"More...comfortable." Slowly, deliberately, Trip reached out and captured her hand, twining his fingers through hers. A bolt of sensual pleasure shot through them both, surprising them with its intensity. They were suddenly, acutely aware of how much they wanted each other.

Trip swallowed nervously. "Wow."

"It does feel...quite agreeable," T'Pol ventured, her voice a bit unsteady.

"Intimate, even," Trip breathed. Their faces were only centimeters apart now. How had that happened? He didn't even remember moving.

T'Pol could feel his warm, sweet breath tickling her face. The sensation was incredibly seductive.

Trip felt her tighten her grip on his hand. He couldn't suppress a groan of desire as another wave of raw, hot need washed over him. Her lips smelled faintly of chamomile...

They froze, a hair's-breadth apart. Trip cleared his throat. "Actually, this feels..._dangerous_."

"Agreed," T'Pol whispered.

They broke apart, flushed and shaking with desire, almost afraid to look at one another.

Trip ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Well. Looks like being 'just friends' has gotten a lot more complicated."

T'Pol took a sip of her cooling tea to steady herself. Trip grabbed his cup and drained it in one gulp.

"Our near-lapse is understandable, considering what we learned today," T'Pol began, her emotional equilibrium returning. "However, no harm was done. Nothing has changed."

"But everything's different!" Trip pushed away from the meditation table in frustration. "We know we have feelings for each other. Hell, we're even looking at each other differently now. And if Lorian's right, we have a chance for something we thought we'd lost forever. If we get that chance, I want to do it _right_. No regrets, no guilt, no hurting anyone." He looked at her once more, full of yearning and doubt. "I don't want to dishonor you."

She regarded him with gentle reproach. "Trip, you are the most honorable man I have ever known. I trust you."

He felt humbled by her faith in him. But he had to be honest, for both their sakes. "Darlin', I don't know if I can trust myself."

T'Pol was touched by his poignant admission...and flattered as well, if truth be told. She moved around the table and knelt before him. "Your words only serve to demonstrate your strength, not your weakness." Carefully, she took his hand again.

He trembled at her touch, with both pleasure and fear. He searched her calm, reassuring eyes. "I've waited so long for you..."

"I'm here," she replied, holding his gaze.

He felt himself drawing closer to her again, like a sailor to a siren's call. With an effort, he caught himself, pulling back. "Aw, hell. How am I gonna do this?"

T'Pol knew Trip was fully capable of mastering his desires, for she had observed his extraordinary self-control these last three months. Perhaps all he needed was to be reminded. "There is a simple alternative," she offered, her voice practical. "If we were to cease all off-duty contact until my marital status changes, you would not be tempted."

Trip blanched. "But...Koss might call you back to Vulcan before that happens. It might be _years_ before that happens." Reflexively, his hold on her hand tightened.

"Then you must choose the more difficult path," T'Pol asserted. "You did so before, following my marriage. Have you ever doubted that choice, or regretted it?"

Trip was struck with a stunning clarity. "No...never. I couldn't have turned my back on you. I can't imagine having been without you these last three months."

"Then keep walking this path with me," she said tenderly. "Let us remain together, as friends...for the moment. And when we touch, think of it not as a denial of what we desire, but as a promise of what awaits us. That way, each touch will give us patience."

He rolled his eyes. "Gawd, I have had my _fill_ of being patient!" He gave her a mock scowl. "And I don't mind tellin' ya, I'm pretty perturbed that you're already back to being all even-keeled and composed, and I'm still a basket case. It's not fair."

She arched an eyebrow. "I remind you that it is your continued support that has enabled me to regain much of my emotional control."

"Oh, that's great. Blame me." He chuckled wryly as he wrapped his other hand around hers. "Well, I suppose if _one_ of us is in control of our, um, urges, this just might work. But you'd better keep me in line."

She nodded pragmatically. "I shall, _t'hai'la_."

"_T'hai'la_." Trip repeated the word, careful to pronounce it correctly. He remembered old T'Pol calling him that. "What does it mean?"

T'Pol lowered her eyes, attempting to hide her surprise. She didn't know that she had spoken the word aloud. "It is a term of endearment, used with family and cherished friends. In this case, an approximate translation would be..." She hesitated, then faced him with shy affection. "Beloved."

"Beloved..." It took Trip's breath away. Suddenly, he found himself blinking back tears. He laughed softly, happy but not at all self-conscious.

T'Pol watched, captivated, as Trip's emotion welled up in his beautiful blue eyes. She was further amazed when, a moment later, she felt the sting of tears behind her own eyes as well.

He gazed serenely at her. "T'Pol...my _t'hai'la_." He spoke the words reverently.

They held each other's eyes...slowly leaning in closer...and, barely a centimeter apart, they realized it was happening again. With a mutual moan of longing, they stopped themselves, resisting the delicious pull. Just barely.

"More tea, quick," Trip managed. T'Pol moved back to her side of the meditation table and refilled their cups.

They made eyes at each other from across the table as they sipped their tea. Trip pouted, looking quite adorable, in T'Pol's assessment. "This sure isn't any fun," he groused.

"We must discipline ourselves if we are to succeed at our objective," T'Pol reminded him.

He made a noise of reluctant assent and downed the rest of his tea.

"There is a facet of Vulcan culture that may assist us in controlling our...urges," she offered.

"You mean, it may assist _me_ in controlling _mine_," Trip snorted. She cocked an eyebrow at him again, and he sighed elaborately. "Okay, okay, I'm listening."

"You will recall that Vulcans utilize a less demonstrative method of public affection." She held out her hand, first two fingers extended in the Vulcan _ozh'esta_.

Trip perked up. "I'd almost forgotten about this." More accurately, he'd willed himself to _try_ to forget that pre-dawn morning back on Vulcan, before everything had fallen apart. He and T'Pol had been preparing the morning meal, teasing each other, talking about family and Lizzie. He'd felt an almost tangible connection with her. She had taken his hand then, and taught him the _ozh'esta_...a gesture elegant in its simplicity, but surprisingly intimate. He had never wanted the moment to end.

He touched his fingers to hers now. "It's like a Vulcan kiss, right?"

"Essentially." She reached up, drawing her two fingers along his cheek. "And this could be equated to a kiss on the cheek."

Her touch sent a delectable tingle shivering through him. "This is supposed to help me _control_ my urges?"

"It is intended to assist you in focusing your energies more efficiently," she replied patiently. "Think of it as a form of meditation."

He waggled his eyebrows at her. "I can think of a _much_ more efficient way to focus my energies regarding your sweet self, darlin'."

She offered him the _ozh'esta_ again. "Remember, _t'hai'la_...each touch a promise."

Trip touched his fingers to hers once more. He relaxed, gradually feeling a calm settle over him that he hadn't felt in months...a renewed sense of peace. He could almost imagine T'Pol literally transmitting her tranquility to him. The connection he felt between them was extraordinary.

He knew then that they _were_ going to be able to make this work, for as long as it took, until they could truly be together. He gave her a gentle smile. "Each touch a promise, _t'hai'la_."

-tbc-


	2. Chapter 2

**Each Touch a Promise**

Disclaimer: _Star Trek: Enterprise_ is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.

* * *

_Chapter 2_

When Lorian arrived for his debriefing at Starfleet HQ, Admiral Forrest startled him by greeting him like a long-lost son, and the other human officers on the panel looked upon him as if he were a myth suddenly come to life. It was flattering, if a bit disconcerting.

However, Lorian found Soval to be every bit the Ambassador Cranky about whom his father had told him stories as a child. Apparently Soval was determined not to believe anything he heard, even before Lorian opened his mouth. The ambassador's two Vulcan adjutants appeared equally intractable, judging from the condescending looks they fixed on Lorian from the moment he entered the briefing room.

"The Vulcan High Command," Soval droned with long-practiced arrogance, "is no more willing to accept your baseless claims at face value than they were willing to accept Captain Archer's highly questionable account, which he could support with only a few schematics and engineering upgrades of unproven origin. When I spoke with T'Pol regarding _Enterprise's_ encounter with your ship, even she expressed skepticism regarding your story."

Inwardly, Lorian's human half responded with Tuckeresque indignation. _That's low—using T'Pol's own emotional turmoil from that time in an attempt to undermine me now!_ Outwardly though, his Vulcan half remained calm. "I believe her reluctance had less to do with the truth, and more with accepting the implications of that truth."

"You mean choosing Commander Tucker as her husband?" Forrest asked. "Having a child with him?"

Lorian nodded.

Soval looked down his nose at the padd before him, which displayed a précis of Lorian's report. "I do not see sufficient cause to alter the High Command's position on time travel." He pointedly raised an eyebrow. "Or the viability of Vulcan-human reproduction."

In response, Lorian proceeded to offer his evidence. He systematically filled the entire briefing room with it, in fact.

First came the collected remnants of the old _Enterprise_, snagged by Spacedock workers following the Xindi Aquatic ship's release of the disintegrating ship. The various pieces had been quantum-dated by three independent sources to 117-121 years old. The majority of the parts were undeniably Starfleet manufacture, and a few of bits of flotsam even had serial numbers that matched their corresponding parts on Archer's _Enterprise_.

Next, Lorian produced his ship's entire database, downloaded as the Xindi scooped the stranded _Enterprise_ off the planet where Karyn Archer had so skillfully landed the crippled ship. The database included 117 years of logs, accounts of meetings with other species, and details of all technology acquired and modifications done to the ship. Then came the genealogies of Lorian's crew, tracing lineages back to the crew of the current _Enterprise_, with the DNA profiles to back them up. Finally Lorian brought out Dr. Phlox's medical logs, which detailed the years of painstaking research and experimentation that ultimately resulted in Lorian's birth.

With ship parts in heaps all around him, and mountains of padds littering the briefing table, Lorian sat placidly before the panel—the humans openly impressed, and the Vulcans trying mightily to maintain their stone-faced skepticism—and proceeded with his report on his _Enterprise's_ 117-year stay in the Delphic Expanse.

The evolution of expressions that Soval's face underwent over the next several hours would have surpassed Trip's wildest expectations. The old Vulcan's initial disbelief gave way to uncertainty, then curiosity, intrigue, and finally admiration for the determination and resourcefulness of Captain Archer and his multi-generational crew. When Lorian spoke of the sudden, unexpected death of his father, and of then being groomed from childhood to take his parents' places—first as Chief Engineer, then as Archer's successor—Soval's genuine look of sympathy took even Lorian by surprise.

Lorian delivered his account with an unruffled calm that faltered only when he recalled his failures to stop the first Xindi weapon from attacking Earth. As he quietly acknowledged responsibility for the seven million lives lost, Forrest stopped him. "Lorian, it's not your fault. You did your best. The hellish thing couldn't be stopped by one starship, even with a hundred-year head start."

"With all due respect, Admiral, I was in command," Lorian persisted, his voice flat. "I had three chances to stop the weapon, and I failed. The responsibility is mine."

"What was the probability?" Soval asked suddenly.

"Ambassador?"

"If you had blown up _Enterprise_ in the path of the weapon, was the warp core breach a guarantee of success?"

Lorian paused. "The probability was seventy-four percent that the explosion would be powerful enough to disable the weapon."

"So there was a possibility that _Enterprise_ and all aboard could have been lost without sufficient damage to the weapon," Soval concluded.

Lorian hesitated again, a frown shadowing his fair features. From the moment he had failed to complete the mission that he and everyone on board had geared their whole lives to achieve, he had been certain that he should have blown the ship up. Of course there was no other explanation, because he had failed. He had _failed_... "A minute possibility. Yes."

"Twenty-six percent is hardly 'minute'," Soval observed mildly. He studied Lorian for a long moment, his expression thoughtful now. "I submit that your guilt is not logical, Lorian. You have no cause to suffer it further."

Lorian was wholly unprepared for the profound effect that Soval's simple, direct words had on him. For months, he had been accustomed to the heavy weight of failure and loss on his troubled conscience, but now he felt that burden being lifted...by, of all people, this notoriously intolerant "bitter old Vulcan." He searched Soval's eyes, but found no disdain there, no blame. Amazingly, he saw respect. Momentarily overcome by emotion, Lorian didn't trust his voice. He settled for giving Soval a nod of thanks.

Only then did he notice that the ambassador's two adjutants, who had remained coldly impassive toward Lorian throughout the briefing, were regarding Soval with clear disapproval for showing Lorian any deference at all. Soval was aware of their perturbation, but seemed quite unconcerned as he moved on to the medical files. Interestingly, he gave the DNA profiles, including Lorian's, barely a passing glance before turning to an examination of Phlox's research logs.

As he studied the padds, Soval's stoic face softened with unmistakable empathy. His voice betrayed his emotion when he finally spoke. "I had no idea your parents suffered such difficulty...such loss. Three miscarriages..." His voice caught as he read on. "And...a daughter."

"T'Lessa," Lorian recalled, his voice soft. "She was born three months premature...so tiny and fragile. Beautiful, like my mother, but with my father's fair hair. She fought for weeks while Phlox attempted to stabilize her. My parents never left her side." He smiled faintly, wistfully. "I wish I had known her. I believe she would have become a remarkable individual."

Soval recovered his composure, somewhat, as he scanned further through the logs. "It appears your birth was no less problematic."

"I almost died twice during Mother's pregnancy," Lorian acknowledged matter-of-factly. "And Father nearly lost us both while she was in labor. Afterward, Phlox advised them not to have more children."

Soval shook his head slowly, admiring but not quite understanding. "Why did they risk so much?"

Lorian remembered wondering the same thing, when he finally learned of the danger and heartache his parents had endured to have him. He gave the answer they had given him. "They wanted to share their love with a child."

Soval's two compatriots shifted uncomfortably. Evidently the idea of Lorian's mixed heritage did not sit well with them. Soval glanced briefly at them. "There are many who regard Vulcan/human mating to be as deviant a behavior as mind-melding is to Vulcans," he remarked.

"No one on _Enterprise_ shared that prejudice," Lorian said. "Do you, Ambassador?"

Soval paused. "In fact, I do not. For either practice."

The Vulcans stared at him as if he had just sprouted a second head, while Admiral Forrest smiled to himself in amusement at their reaction. He caught Soval's eye and nodded in silent support.

Clearly, Soval's values were, in reality, quite different than the majority of his Vulcan peers. Lorian wondered whether the ambassador's notoriously haughty reputation among humans might be a façade to protect his professional position even as he surreptitiously effected change.

Soval actually appeared to be enjoying the other Vulcans' discomfort at the distasteful turn the conversation had taken. "Tell me," he went on to Lorian, "how did your parents overcome the obstacles inherent in an interspecies relationship?"

"The same way any two people forge a successful partnership, I would suspect—by earning each other's trust and respect," Lorian replied. "As they progressed from being adversaries to friends, and finally bondmates, they took care not to take each other for granted. They rejoiced in their differences, as Surak teaches us. They told me that those differences made their bond stronger."

By now, the two Vulcan adjutants were fairly squirming with revulsion. Lorian had an insane urge to burst into laughter at the sight. He assumed it was because of the time he had been spending with Karyn recently, which had brought his human side closer to the surface...but then he saw Soval hiding a smile as well.

Soval took care to restore his Vulcan mask of equanimity before turning to Forrest. "I have no further questions, Admiral."

Forrest rose. "Then this debriefing is concluded."

The panel members stood—the two Vulcans beating a hasty retreat, while several of the human officers paused to offer Lorian a few words of appreciation on their way out. Finally only Forrest and Soval were left. Lorian studied Soval, much as the elder Vulcan had examined him earlier. "Ambassador, I suspect the reputation that precedes you is unwarranted."

Forrest laughed heartily. Soval arched an elegant eyebrow, the very picture of dignified innocence. "On the contrary, it has been carefully cultivated over a number of years to be exactly as I intended. It simply happens to be unrepresentative of my true nature."

Lorian was fascinated. "Would you care to enlighten me?"

Soval eyed him keenly. "I suspect you have already guessed the answer. The High Command has, in recent years, become increasingly enamored of the power and influence it wields over both Vulcans and other species. Many of its members routinely use deception and persecution to maintain that power and achieve their objectives. For any member of the High Command to openly profess a significantly different viewpoint..."

"They'd fire him and ship him back to Vulcan in disgrace," Forrest declared bluntly. "Soval's kept up this human-hating-Vulcan act to keep the VHC off his back, so we can get some real work done. He knows that Earth has as much to offer Vulcan as the other way around. If we join forces on an equal footing, there's no limit to what our two worlds can accomplish. That's our goal."

"I have no doubt that, with your combined determination, you will achieve your objective," Lorian said confidently.

"Lorian..." Forrest hesitated, looking a bit contrite. "When you and your crew first arrived, I started planning a big, celebratory welcome. I wanted to show you off to the world, since you played such a critical role in saving us all. But Starfleet HQ classified everything about your mission related to time travel...which amounts to, basically, everything about your mission. So..." He shrugged apologetically. "No fanfare is forthcoming, I'm afraid."

"Don't concern yourself, Admiral," Lorian said. "We didn't come here seeking fame. We're simply a displaced family, weary from a long journey. All we need is time to rest and heal." He gestured to the piles of charred ship parts littering the room. "And since this is all that remains of the only home we've ever known, a place to belong."

"You have that here, all of you," Forrest assured him. "For as long as you need, until you get acclimated." He brightened. "The brass _does_ like the idea of your crew wanting to join Starfleet. For anyone who is considering it, we're putting together a set of field evaluations and exams to determine each crewman's level of expertise and experience. We'll be able to work out commissions, ranks, and any additional training needs from there."

Lorian nodded, pleased. "I'll pass on the good news."

Forrest surveyed the mounds of evidence. "Judging from all this, and your record, I'd say you'll be offered a commission as Commander without any problem." He shook Lorian's hand. "It'll be a pleasure to formally welcome you into Starfleet, Lorian. You've already made us all proud."

"Thank you, Admiral."

Soval clasped his hands before him, assuming a more formal air. "You performed a difficult duty with exceeding skill and resourcefulness, Lorian. You honor your parents, and they you."

For the second time that day, Lorian was deeply moved by Soval's words. "Thank you, Ambassador. They would have treasured that statement, coming from you."

"Now get out of here," Forrest grinned. "It's late."

"Should you have further questions, I'm at your service." Lorian gave each man a respectful nod. "Good night, Admiral, Ambassador."

Forrest and Soval were silent for a moment after Lorian took his leave. Finally the admiral sighed. "The High Command will probably deny that he even exists."

Soval nodded. "Quite likely it will suppress or deny much of the evidence in this room as well."

Forrest shook his head. "Ironic, isn't it? He's living proof of what we're trying to accomplish. His parents demonstrated that humans and Vulcans are quite capable of working together as equals, both professionally and personally. They're a microcosm of our two peoples' potential...but lost in another time."

"Not necessarily, Admiral," Soval countered. "Commanders Tucker and T'Pol are on _Enterprise_ even now, demonstrating the successful professional partnership of which you speak." He picked his way idly through the shattered remnants of Lorian's ship. "I suppose we can ascribe both credit and blame to Captain Archer for the challenges we face in achieving the goal we have set for ourselves."

"Archer?" Forrest said curiously. "You lost me."

"Before _Enterprise_ launched, the longest time any Vulcan had spent in close confines with humans was a few weeks. But Captain Archer, by simply being himself—an idealistic human, an enthusiastic explorer, a moral man—rose above his own prejudices against Vulcans and created an atmosphere on _Enterprise_ that enabled T'Pol's extraordinary gifts to flourish. Her successful integration with humans is, ultimately, why so many in the High Command are now afraid that their comfortable status quo will not long endure." Soval's brow knitted pensively. "Archer started a pebble rolling down a mountainside, and now an avalanche of change has begun..."

"Are you afraid?" Forrest asked quietly.

Soval shook his head. "Too many secrets have been kept for too long...by the High Command, and by those driven into hiding to escape persecution. It is time for truths to be revealed, by whatever means." He turned gravely to Forrest. "I suspect, however, that as the High Command is threatened, it will take increasingly radical measures to protect its power."

Forrest's resolve did not waver. "Then, my friend, we will do whatever we have to. No matter what the High Command throws at us."

Soval nodded. "Indeed, my friend. We must."

-tbc-


	3. Chapter 3

**Each Touch a Promise**

Disclaimer: _Star Trek: Enterprise_ is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.

* * *

_Chapter 3_

Karyn was waiting for Lorian outside his quarters when he returned from the debriefing at Starfleet HQ. She sat him down straightaway, insisting on a blow-by-blow account, then listened, enthralled—especially when he revealed what he had discovered regarding Soval's true nature.

"Ambassador Cranky is a pussycat?!" she exclaimed.

Lorian looked pained. "I wouldn't use such an undignified term, Karyn."

She chuckled. "Your dad and my great-grandfather are going to be very disappointed when they find out they can't make fun of him anymore."

"They'll soon see the advantage of having Soval as an ally," Lorian replied. "Now tell me how you fared today."

With her customary efficiency, Karyn ticked the items off. "We're still cycling people through Starfleet Medical. Yancy and Andrews were released from the infirmary, and the Wilsons are due out tomorrow. The children had a food fight in the west-wing cafeteria, but don't worry, I made sure they cleaned it up and apologized. And those of us with visible alien features have been cautioned to take a Starfleet escort if we go sightseeing, because of a standing alert regarding xenophobia."

"Are you serious?" Lorian asked in surprise. "Here on Earth?"

Karyn shrugged. "The Xindi attack. An unknown race of aliens, a weapon launched from light-years away..."

Lorian tried to understand, but it was difficult. "It's unfortunate that humans already seem to have forgotten how proficient they were at killing each other just a century ago."

"A few brave souls have ventured out in closed vehicles, with escorts," Karyn went on. "They have returned unscathed, pronouncing the city beautiful. The rest of us are quite envious."

They both fell silent, the business of the day done. As they felt the dynamic shifting to a more personal level, they regarded each other with shy affection. "So," Karyn said at last, "what now?"

"I have no idea," Lorian answered, with an honesty that Karyn found sweetly appealing. "I have little experience at...courting."

Karyn took his hand, and he sighed as he felt a warm, sweet shiver ripple through him. Her alto voice took on a subtly enticing lilt as she said, "I believe hand-holding is traditional."

He attempted to keep his own voice even. "It would seem a logical early step in the process."

"I did some checking today," she said. "There is one place known for its cosmopolitan clientèle that has remained friendly to nonhumans despite the current paranoia. It's a jazz club called Callahan's."

"My mother mentioned first hearing jazz music while she was stationed here," Lorian recalled. "She developed a rather defiant fondness for it, despite what she called its 'lack of discipline.' Or, I suspect, because of it." He cocked his head speculatively at Karyn. "Would you care to go to Callahan's tonight?"

Karyn smiled. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

He hesitated. "Do you want me to be?"

"Do you want to be?"

Lorian looked heavenward. He could already tell that this ritual of courting was going to prove incomprehensible to him. "Let's go to Callahan's."

"Okay," Karyn said brightly.

* * *

After the structured confinement of _Enterprise_ and the ever-present threat of the Xindi, the comfortably relaxed mood of Callahan's was a startling contrast. It felt tremendously liberating to revel in the rich atmosphere, the food, the people. And the music...the music was intoxicating—seductive, soulful, transporting. 

Lorian and Karyn spent much of the evening in companionable silence. Certainly, they were accustomed to spending long hours in one another's company, but in truth, neither had the slightest idea how to act with each other on a date. Lorian still found himself rather awestruck by the whole situation. Experimentally, he reached out and took Karyn's hand, lacing his fingers through hers. Again, he felt the same pleasurable flush tingle through him at her touch. He shut his eyes, allowing himself to indulge in the sensation.

Across the table, Karyn watched Lorian's features relax into the most glorious expression of unabashed enjoyment she'd ever seen. It thrilled her to know it was because he was holding her hand.

When Lorian opened his eyes again, he saw Karyn regarding him with contented adoration. Feeling a little self-conscious under her gaze, he let his eyes drop to their clasped hands. "I remember a conversation I had with my father when I was...twelve, I think," he mused. "I had always observed that my parents often shared brief touches—holding hands, touching each other's arm or shoulder as they conversed, offering a kiss on the cheek in greeting or farewell. It didn't mean anything in particular to me..."

"...Until you turned twelve," Karyn finished knowingly.

"Exactly. I asked my father about it. He told me that touching her, even for the briefest moment, sent a sweet fire burning through him, straight to his heart. No other woman ever had that effect on him." He smiled at Karyn. "Now I fully understand what he meant."

Karyn felt a flush of pleasure herself, as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Haven't you ever felt...been attracted to a woman?" she asked.

Lorian stroked his fingers over hers, sending tiny, delicious sparks of desire coursing through her. "I have never experienced sensations quite like this." His eyes met hers. "I have never felt the emotions I feel for you...emotions I feel more deeply each time I am with you."

Karyn could feel the blush rising up her face, reaching all the way to her jet-black hair. She looked down, unable to stop smiling, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. He was here, gazing at her with those amazing blue eyes, holding her hand, telling her what she had dreamed of hearing since she was a child. She could hardly draw breath.

Lorian was enchanted by Karyn's transformation. Her shyness only enhanced her beauty, the rush of color giving her face a delicate glow, her deep brown eyes becoming more expressive, even her downcast gaze showing off her long, silken lashes.

He had known this woman all her life. She was intelligent, accomplished, humorous, kind, resourceful, strong of spirit. He had always valued her. But until scant days ago, she had been merely his first officer, his colleague and friend. He shook his head in quiet disbelief. "Have I been so blind?"

Karyn looked up at him then. "No, Lorian. You were in command of a warship in enemy territory. You couldn't afford to focus on anything other than your mission, and the safety of your crew."

"Captain Archer found time to love and marry," Lorian pointed out, still somewhat disconcerted.

"But it took him years! Sixteen, wasn't it? You were already born by the time he met Esilia."

Lorian remained stubbornly contrite. "I was captain for over _fifty_ years. It took the end of our mission, the disintegration of our ship. And you kissing me. While we were acting out my parents' love story."

Karyn shrugged magnanimously. "You've never been the impulsive type."

"Rather the obsessed type," he sighed. "With a mission and nothing else. Certainly no personal life."

"I'd like to think you were simply waiting for me," she said placidly. "You just didn't know it yet."

He frowned at her. "You were my helm officer for eight years, my first officer for five. Yet I wasn't aware...?"

"You sensed it," Karyn assured him. "But you wanted to be certain."

Lorian was oddly charmed by her persistently forgiving attitude. "Why do you continue to make excuses for me?"

In reply, she gave him a blissful smile. With a start, he realized... "You _are_ certain. When did you know?"

"Seventeen years ago," she replied, quite matter-of-factly.

He stared at her in shock. "Tell me a story, Karyn."

She settled back in her chair, letting the memories rise to the surface. "I was nine years old. It was Daddy's day off, and he was treating me to my very first visit to the bridge. He wanted to show me the helm station, where he worked."

"Hinting at a career path, no doubt," Lorian commented.

"I was doing well in biology," Karyn explained. "Mom was already starting to map out my college curriculum. Daddy had to do something." Lorian smiled as she continued. "I was also going to get to see where my great-grandfather used to sit when he was the first captain of _Enterprise_. When we arrived that day, you were sitting there. I'd seen you a few times in person, in the mess hall..."

"You had never uttered a word to me, as I recall," he interjected.

"You were _Captain Lorian_. I was pretty shy back then."

He arched an eyebrow. "You appear to have outgrown it."

Karyn grinned briefly before going on. "When we got there, the bridge was really tense. You were helping another ship that was in trouble. On the viewscreen, I saw a young crewman, all dirty and bruised. His senior officers were dead, his engines were overloading, and he didn't know how to keep his ship from blowing up..."

Lorian remembered. "The Lucallans. Their ship wasn't shielded with trellium-D. They'd been damaged by a spatial anomaly."

Karyn nodded. "The crewman was so scared. He thought he was going to die, and everyone on the ship with him." Her eyes narrowed as she pictured the bridge again, as vividly as she had seen it that day. "You began talking to him. I remember your voice, so calm and strong and kind...a voice he knew he could trust. You reassured him, told him to listen to you, and then you talked him through the reactor shutdown, step by step."

Lorian watched raptly as Karyn peered into their past. He recalled her as a tiny, doll-like child of nine, always darting behind the nearest parent when he looked at her, but whose huge brown eyes missed nothing.

"Everyone on the bridge was watching," Karyn continued. "I remember how quiet it was...the only sound was your voice reaching out to that crewman, giving him faith in himself, and the courage to do what he had to. And he did—he shut down the reactor. You did it together. You saved the rest of the crew...thirty people, I think."

She returned to the present, focusing on Lorian once more. "That's when I knew you were the one." She hesitated, then took the plunge, giving voice to her feelings at last. "I've loved you ever since."

Lorian was speechless for a moment, overwhelmed. Finally he said, "You were a child."

"I come from a long line of worthy men," she said simply. "I _knew._"

"But...you had other suitors," Lorian said uncertainly, his head still spinning from her declaration. "I would see them pursuing you, in the mess hall, on Movie Night..."

Karyn was pleased to hear that he had noticed her that much, at least. "It was already too late for them," she said airily. "I compared them all to you. They never had a chance."

Again, Lorian found himself robbed of the power of speech.

At his silence, Karyn bit her lip nervously. "This must be a real shock to you," she stammered. "I'm used to it—I've lived with it all my life. But I can see how it might scare you. I've just wanted to tell you forever..."

Lorian reached out and put a finger lightly to her lips. "I'm not scared," he said gently. "And I'm glad you told me." He drew his fingers along her cheek in a soft caress, and she relaxed, smiling at him.

They closed the place down. Callahan, the club's owner, good-naturedly kicked them out himself, promising them a table near the stage on their next visit.

* * *

It was after 3 a.m. when they arrived back at the Starfleet compound. Karyn accepted Lorian's proffered hand as she exited the transport. She didn't let go afterward, instead holding fast with a natural ease that felt quite comfortable. 

He escorted her through the dark, silent corridors to her quarters. They lingered in her doorway, both reluctant to see the evening end.

Lorian gazed happily at her, feeling wonderfully fulfilled for the first time in his life. "Is this love?" he asked in hushed wonder. "Can it happen so quickly?"

Karyn's heart fluttered. "It can."

"Then...I believe I am falling in love with you," he told her.

Her face lit with the most exquisite smile he could ever recall seeing. Utterly entranced, he leaned in and gently captured her lips with his own.

At once, he knew this was not like the soft introductory kiss she had given him on _Enterprise_. Her mouth was warm and alive and moving against his, her tongue caressing his lips, her voice a soft hum of desire. He opened to her, and suddenly the kiss was deep and wet and overpowering to his senses. He could taste her and feel her and smell her sweet scent, and their arms were around each other, and he wasn't breathing, but it didn't matter, because she was giving him everything he needed.

Finally they came up for air, still holding each other close. "So," Lorian said, after he had caught his breath, "what is your assessment of our first evening of courting?"

Karyn giggled, leaning her forehead against his. "I don't think your lack of experience is going to be a problem."

Lorian found himself laughing softly with her. He kissed her again—a sweet, lingering after-kiss, full of promise—before releasing his hold on her. She entered her quarters, then turned back. "Breakfast tomorrow?"

"It is a date," Lorian nodded.

She gave him another lovely smile. "Good night, Lorian."

He returned her smile. "Sweet dreams, Karyn."

Only after she had shut her door did Lorian finally move off toward his quarters...already looking forward to his own sweet dreams.

-tbc-


	4. Chapter 4

**Each Touch a Promise**

Disclaimer: _Star Trek: Enterprise_ is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.

* * *

_Chapter 4_

Trip hadn't expected the entire mission to the Borderland to be about controlling urges. A whole _mess_ of urges.

To his surprise, mastering his desire for T'Pol was no longer a problem, now that they had reconnected on a deeper level. Instead of the overpowering yearning he'd been battling for months, he now felt a contented glow of completion whenever she was near.

But as soon as she got kidnapped by the Orions, the impulse-resisting began in earnest.

He'd wanted to go AWOL, steal a shuttlepod, and chase after her. Wanted to lead a rescue party down to Verex III to get her out of that slave market, instead of fix his shot-to-hell engines. Wanted to desert the bridge—never mind that he was acting Captain at the time—and transport her back personally, after she was found. Wanted to sprint to sickbay as soon as he knew she was safe, rather than wait for Captain Archer to return and resume command.

Trip had lost track of how many times he'd wanted to throttle that smarmy mad scientist Arik Soong. He knew he wouldn't have done T'Pol any good stewing in the brig, though, even if he had done the galaxy a favor by ridding it of its latest hubris-headed Dr. Frankenstein.

So he controlled himself. Barely. His shakiest moment came once he finally got to sickbay and saw with his own eyes that T'Pol was safe and relatively sound. He'd wanted nothing more than to sweep her up in his arms and cradle her to him in a spectacularly inappropriate public display of affection. That would've given the rumor mill something to chew on for a while.

He'd been immensely proud of her, watching her calmly take care of some work on a padd because Phlox wouldn't cut her loose yet. Her ear was ringing, she was bruised and burned from the Orions' stun-sticks...but she seemed genuinely relaxed. To hear her tell it, she'd handled being displayed like a rag doll and auctioned off like a piece of meat by regarding it as basically one big eye-roll, too far beneath her dignity to get worked up over. She had simply waited for her chance to run.

However, Trip could sense, underneath her veneer of composure, that T'Pol was actually pretty frazzled by her ordeal. He had offered her a surreptitious _ozh'esta_, asking softly, "You all right, _t'hai'la?_ Really?"

Realizing he'd seen right through her, T'Pol had pressed her fingers to his. "I will be, now. Rest easy, _t'hai'la_." And his heart melted, as it had each precious time they had touched like this.

A few days later, he felt connected with T'Pol in a very different way, as the two of them tried their damnedest to blow up Cold Station 12, and Captain Archer along with it. They had worked side by side to determine the away team's status, so in sync that they were anticipating each other's requests, finishing each other's sentences, practically reading each other's thoughts and feelings. As Trip watched T'Pol give Hoshi the order to send the self-destruct code to the station, he could almost feel the same heartsick sorrow from T'Pol that he felt himself.

As they waited in frozen silence for confirmation that C-12 and everyone on it were lost, Trip flashed back to an image of himself three years earlier...in Sub-Commander T'Pol's face, bellowing furiously at her for leaving Captain Archer stranded on the Suliban helix. That Trip Tucker seemed ridiculously immature now...or perhaps simply less wise. He had not yet been touched by crushing grief, or blind vengeance, or deep abiding love. A lot had changed over the past year.

Thankfully, the station had survived, and Archer was back on the bridge a few hours later, thawed out and bluffing his way through Klingon space. Trip and T'Pol had shifted their base to engineering to recalibrate the sensors and watch for Soong's Bird of Prey, and after their tense deathwatch for their captain and friend earlier, the pursuit of something as goofily romantic as sneaking a Vulcan kiss in public was a refreshing change of pace.

Wedged in the corner behind Trip's workstation, they were by themselves—but engineering's open, multi-tiered design made it virtually impossible to be truly alone. After hours of watching the sensor grid until they were both bleary-eyed, Trip sensed a break in the passing foot traffic. He slid over to T'Pol and touched his fingers to hers in the Vulcan way. Her expression of contentment told him that she savored the contact as much as he did.

He hummed with satisfaction. "I've been dreaming of this for hours. Even Romeo and Juliet had it easier—at least they got to elope."

"They also perished because of an egregiously miscalculated attempt to escape the consequences of their actions," T'Pol remarked.

"You're a real romantic, T'Pol." His mood undampened, Trip stroked her fingers. "I guess the joy is in the little things."

Following one final temptation—a last, delicious opportunity to commit Soongicide after another crack about T'Pol—Trip's gauntlet was finally run. It was almost a relief to get back to the business-as-usual of dodging exploding EPS junctions and insisting to Archer that the engines just couldn't be pushed any harder, before Trip coaxed a bit more out of them anyway.

* * *

The morning before _Enterprise_ was due back at Spacedock, Archer arrived a bit late for breakfast in the Captain's Mess. As he entered, he caught a glimpse of Trip and T'Pol at the table, contentedly drowning in each other's eyes, their fingers touching in an unmistakably Vulcan expression of affection. As soon as they realized he was there, they sprang apart, looking like the proverbial deer caught in headlights. Archer, still a bit miffed that they hadn't filled him in on their mysterious new development, said nothing as he took his seat.

After the steward brought their meals, Archer waited until Trip and T'Pol both had mouthfuls before he spoke. "So do I keep pretending I didn't see that finger-touch, or are you going to fill me in?"

He was rewarded with a satisfying spit-take from Trip, while T'Pol choked a bit as she swallowed her food. He waited, smiling pleasantly, as the pair eyed each other self-consciously and squirmed.

"Nothing has changed," T'Pol finally began. "Technically."

"It's just a theory," Trip went on.

"Lorian's theory," supplied T'Pol.

"Which means it's really logical," Trip added.

Archer propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward, all attention. "I'm on pins and needles."

"He thinks Koss has some ulterior motive for forcing the marriage on T'Pol," Trip said at last. "So it might not be permanent after all."

Slowly, Archer nodded. "So...this being a marriage in name only at this point, anyway...your response is to make up for lost time?"

"No!" both Trip and T'Pol blurted out at once.

"I would not—"

"She would never—"

"It would not be honorable—"

"She's a married woman—"

Archer held up a hand, and the two stopped spluttering. "I know it would be anathema to you," the captain assured them. "But it would also be understandable, considering that T'Pol was blackmailed. The marriage wasn't honorable, so why should you be?"

"Because we _are_ honorable," T'Pol declared with dignity.

Trip nodded vigorously. "We're leaving the dishonor stuff to the skunk—um, to Koss."

"Skunk?" T'Pol asked curiously.

"Uh—just a little pet name I have for him," Trip tossed off dismissively.

"But a skunk is a foul-smelling—"

"Cap'n," Trip continued quickly, studiously avoiding T'Pol's gaze, "we want to do this the stand-up way."

"But until then, you're making yourselves crazy, aren't you?" Archer asked. "Tempting each other like this?"

Trip slid his hand over and clasped T'Pol's. They both looked serene as she explained, "To us, it is more...an affirmation of a promise."

"Now that we know there's hope, we can wait practically forever," Trip agreed.

Archer breathed an inward sigh of relief. _Finally_. "You've told each other how you feel?"

As Trip and T'Pol traded bashful glances, Archer grinned. "I'll take that as a 'yes.' And it's _about time_." He went back to his breakfast. "Remember, though, this is a small ship with a very active rumor mill. And you can bet you're the number one topic, now that Lorian is back. Since we three are the only ones who know the details about T'Pol's pathetic excuse for a marriage, if anyone else sees you doing that finger-touch..."

"_Ozh-esta_," Trip clarified helpfully. "And we only do it when we're alone, or where it's safe. Like here, or your ready room."

Archer suddenly felt like a parent cautioning two teenagers not to neck in public. "Just take care you don't do anything that can be...misinterpreted."

"Aye, sir," the kids said dutifully.

"So what now? You wait for a meteor to fall on Koss?"

"Aw, there's better ones than that on my list," Trip snickered. "My favorite is still number thirty-two: Hungry sehlat, no high ground."

"List?" T'Pol inquired suspiciously.

"Uhm—just a game the Cap'n and I were playing one night, while we were tyin' one on," Trip murmured evasively.

Archer raised his coffee mug in salute to his best friends. "I'm just glad I finally have the chance to root for a Happily Ever After."

Trip beamed at him, and T'Pol nodded graciously. Archer smiled warmly back at them.

-tbc-


	5. Chapter 5

**Each Touch a Promise**

Disclaimer: _Star Trek: Enterprise_ is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.

* * *

_Chapter 5_

Callahan was delayed by business across the bay, so he got to the club later than usual. The joint was in full swing by the time he arrived. The band was starting its second set, couples were taking to the dance floor, and the bar was a zoo. Just the way Callahan liked it.

He made his way through the happy throng to Kyle, his barkeep. "Howzit, K?"

"Fast and furious, Boss," she smiled, as she filled four orders at once.

Callahan craned his neck, trying to see the tables near the stage. "Any sign of our lovebirds?"

Kyle nodded. "Right on time."

Callahan grinned as he caught sight of Lorian and Karyn at their regular table next to the parquet dance floor. They'd been coming here for a couple of weeks now, literally falling for each other right before his eyes. He'd never seen two people more sublimely swept away by their feelings for each other; it had been a thing of beauty to witness.

Tonight, they looked like something out of a fairy tale—Lorian in a dark, elegant tunic and slacks, and Karyn wearing a low-cut dress with yards of flowing skirt that showed off her petite figure to perfection. Callahan wondered why they'd gotten so gussied up...until he saw that they weren't alone at the table. "And they brought friends. That's a switch."

"They mentioned yesterday that they were bringing _family_ tonight," Kyle said.

Callahan studied Lorian and Karyn's three guests with interest, trying to figure out who was who. "Hmm...well, the lovely Vulcan beauty is obviously Lorian's...daughter?"

"Hard to tell with Vulcans," Kyle commented, eyeing the darkly stunning Vulcan woman sitting across from Lorian. "They look ageless until they're 150. She could be his mother, for all we know."

"Naw. Really?" Callahan shook his head in wonder, then moved on to the man beside the Vulcan woman. "Check out the human gent next to the lovely Vulcan beauty. Blond and blue-eyed, just like Lorian. Half-brother, maybe?"

"But look how close he's sitting next to the aforementioned Vulcan beauty. Like he's her boyfriend."

"That shoots my theory all to hell, then." Callahan couldn't see the face of the fifth person at the table, another man. "What about the other guy?"

"Dunno for sure," Kyle said. "He seems to be relating most with Karyn. Looks old enough to be her dad, but I haven't gotten a good look at his face. I don't know if he has the same..." She gestured to the bridge of her nose, a reference to Karyn's alien ridges.

Just then the mystery man laughed at something Karyn said. He turned to give her a kiss on the cheek, and Callahan got a clear view of him. "Holy shit—that's _Jonathan Archer_."

Kyle looked more closely. With a start, she recognized him too. "Whoa. Earth's number one hero, right here in our midst...related to our little Karyn..."

They ogled in silence for a moment.

"You sent over the bill yet?" Callahan asked.

"Nope."

"Don't."

* * *

Trip stared across the table at Karyn, his jaw ascrape. "Soval is a...pussycat?" 

Lorian winced. He gave Karyn a look of patient reproach. "Karyn..."

But she was on a roll. "He accepted the evidence. About time travel, about Lorian's parentage—all of it! He was downright respectful to Lorian. And when he got sick of the other two Vulcans sneering at Lorian like he was some kind of half-breed mutant, Soval said, right in front of the whole briefing panel, that he had no prejudice against human/Vulcan relationships." She sat back in placid triumph, waiting for further reaction.

Trip looked even more stunned, if that was possible. "He musta been sick or something."

"Or," T'Pol suggested, "perhaps Lorian succeeded in widening the ambassador's horizons after all."

Trip shook his head dizzily. "This is messin' up my whole belief system."

"Explain," Lorian said, intrigued.

"There are certain rock-solid, universal truths that I've always been able to depend on," Trip replied. "Y'know, hell won't freeze, and pigs don't fly, and Soval is a bitter old crank who's always finding something to complain about. Last time I saw him, he was huffin' on about T'Pol's uniform, for cryin' out loud."

"After my debriefing," Archer spoke up, "he thanked me for helping save Vulcan from the Sphere Builders. Even shook my hand."

Trip grabbed his head with a groan. "Aw, I can't take much more of this. The next thing you know, someone'll be telling me that Koss isn't really a skunk."

"Trip..." T'Pol chided him tolerantly, eyeing him with a picture-perfect copy of the look Lorian had given Karyn a minute earlier.

_Like mother, like son,_ Archer thought wryly.

Trip held up a hand in dignified surrender. "It's just gonna take me a little time to adjust, is all." He caught his son regarding him with open amusement, complete with a little Lorian-smile. "You sure are smiling a lot more," Trip observed.

"Am I?" Lorian's eyes automatically went to Karyn...and his smile widened a little. She put her hand on his, glowing happily.

Trip waited expectantly.

"We have been courting," Lorian acknowledged.

"That much is obvious," T'Pol remarked, as Trip and Archer grinned like the proud parent and great-grandparent they were.

"We find each other's company quite agreeable," Karyn added sweetly.

"Indeed," Lorian said, with satisfaction.

Karyn cocked an eyebrow at Archer. "You're getting that nosy look, Papa."

Archer tried to look innocent as he sipped his drink. "Me? Oh, I was just...curious about any future plans you might—"

"Captain!" T'Pol admonished.

Trip playfully thwacked him across the shoulder. "Leave 'em alone, Papa! They've only been dating a couple weeks!"

"It's all right," Karyn chuckled. She slipped her arm through Lorian's as she smiled at Archer. "So far, we're just enjoying each day as it comes. Not to mention learning how to live on land, and getting used to life without the threat of Earth's destruction hanging over our heads."

"None of the crew has had any experience at living a 'normal' life," Lorian added quietly.

"Don't get too comfortable with this 'normal' routine," Archer warned good-naturedly. "Admiral Forrest sent me a message before he left for Vulcan. Apparently your crew's field evaluations have exceeded all expectations. Their level of resourcefulness and intuition across the board has Starfleet HQ doing handsprings. There are bound to be a lot of commissions offered them...and the lion's share of credit rightfully goes to their commander."

He raised his glass in salute to Lorian—and saw that Lorian was doing the same to him. "Commanders, Captain," he amended, with a nod of respect.

As they drank, the band launched into a soulful blues number. Karyn turned her lovely brown eyes to Lorian. "Dance with me?"

His blue eyes warmed as he took her hand. "A request I am helpless to resist." He nodded to the others. "If you'll excuse us..." He escorted her onto the dance floor. They moved into each other's arms, as if they'd always belonged together, and began to dance gracefully, effortlessly, their gazes never leaving one another.

"I have determined through independent means that I am, indeed, in love with you," Lorian stated, with pleased certitude.

Karyn knew it already, of course, but she enjoyed playing along with his dry sense of humor. "Oh? What did you do, take a test?"

"I consulted a film we often showed on Movie Night," Lorian explained. "_The Adventures of Robin Hood_."

He'd gone and found yet another way to charm her. "Tell me more," she prompted.

"Maid Marion and her lady-in-waiting have a discussion about the condition of being in love," Lorian went on. "They agree that one must have all-encompassing thoughts of the object of one's affection; suffer from a not-unpleasant state of insomnia; and experience a 'prickly feeling' along the spine. I exhibit all the requisite symptoms." He gave Karyn a tiny, impish smile. "Though I experience the 'prickly feeling' in a decidedly different area than my spine."

Karyn chuckled, low in her throat. "We'll definitely have to investigate that further."

"I look forward to it," Lorian, his baritone voice rich with promise. He held her closer as they continued to dance.

- - -

Back at the table, the three surrogate parents watched their two kids, spellbound. "If that isn't love," Trip murmured, "I don't know what is."

Archer glanced at his first officer. "So, T'Pol, have you decided how you're going to introduce Lorian to your mother?"

"I would prefer to do it in person, considering the complexity of explaining his origin," T'Pol sighed. "However, it is unlikely I will be granted leave any time soon. To make introductions by subspace message will be...awkward." She looked nervous. "Frankly, I do not know how to begin."

"Just tell her the simple version," Trip said lightly.

T'Pol looked blank. "Which is...?"

"While we were in the Expanse, we went through a subspace corridor, triggered a time warp, got stranded in an alternate timeline 117 years in the past, got married, had a son, met up with him when our two timelines converged again, thought he died when he helped us save the universe, but the Xindi found him and brought him here. And hey, meet your grandson Lorian." Trip shrugged.

T'Pol stared at him. "That is the _simple_ version?"

"Oh—and Soval signed off on the whole thing," Trip added. "But we can't show any of the evidence, because it's all classified."

"Right," Archer said, deadpan. "She'll eat that up with a spoon."

"What's the problem?" Trip looked from T'Pol to Archer and back again. "We've got the Ambassador Soval, VHC Stamp of Approval here! Pluswhich, why wouldn't she believe her own daughter?"

"Because the explanation is incomprehensible," T'Pol said flatly. "Because her grandson is almost as old as she is. Because the Vulcan Science Directorate has determined that—"

"T'Pol." Trip took her shoulders. "Don't worry. It'll all work out. As soon as she lays eyes on Lorian, she'll love him, just like we do."

She looked hopefully at him, clearly wanting to believe him. "How can you be so certain? It is not logical."

"I just am." He smiled at her, and she relaxed a little. Archer watched them both, marveling at the almost palpable connection he sensed between them.

Trip stood, holding his hand out to T'Pol. "C'mon. You need to get your mind off your mom for a while. Let's dance."

Archer thought he saw a hint of disappointment on her face. "I do not dance," she said.

Trip kept his hand extended. "Lorian told me you taught him how to dance."

She regarded him dubiously. "I did?"

"Yep. That's why I need to teach you. Otherwise, how could he be out there with Karyn?"

T'Pol was curious now. "Why didn't you teach him?"

"I was already dead," Trip replied matter-of-factly.

Archer shook his head. "This is the weirdest conversation I've ever heard..."

T'Pol rose and took Trip's hand. "Am I skilled?"

"Of course you are!" he declared. "I taught you, didn't I?"

"Not yet."

"Don't take my word for it—look at Lorian over there," he said as he led her to the dance floor. "You taught him everything he knows..."

- - -

The band was playing a torchy ballad, slow enough for cuddly sway-dancing, but expressive enough for the more demonstrative couples. Lorian was leading Karyn through a rumba, and their sensual steps and turns had more than a few spectators watching. They certainly knew how to entertain an audience...although Archer suspected they were aware only of each other.

Trip had started T'Pol off slow, with a lazy box step, as he held her lightly in his arms. They were talking softly, Trip smiling often as he instructed her. T'Pol's expression was attentive as she smoothly picked up the syncopated rhythm of the music and the steps.

Archer sighed wistfully as he watched them. They fit together, in their own way, as perfectly as Lorian and Karyn. He hoped, for the millionth time, that Lorian's theory about Koss was right.

He heard a familiar voice in his ear. "Can't a galactic hero even get a dance around here?" He turned to see Erika Hernandez standing behind him. With a smile, she gave him a quick but tasty greeting-kiss. "Hello, Captain."

"Hello, Captain," he replied in surprise. "Of all the jazz clubs in all the towns in all the world..."

Erika took a seat beside him. "I'd love to claim I'm incredibly intuitive...but I asked. Lieutenant Sato told me you were here, at a 'family gathering'."

Jon pointed to the dance floor. "Family's out there. The incredibly beautiful young lady in the flowing dress is Karyn Archer, my great-granddaughter from another timeline. And her dashing partner is Lorian, also of said timeline, and son of..." —he pointed again— "...Commanders Tucker and T'Pol."

"So that's the famed Lorian," Erika said with fascination. "He doesn't look quite like I expected."

"Let's just say… now that his mission is over, he's a lot more relaxed," Jon smiled.

"And who are you with?" Erika asked.

"I am the designated Fifth Wheel," Jon announced with a flourish. "I would have asked you, but I thought you were out putting _Columbia's_ warp drive through its paces."

Erika scowled. "Just got back. The damn injectors aren't calibrated yet."

"Who's your Chief Engineer?"

"Nobody," she said tiredly. "I've been running through candidates like cheap socks, but none of them has that..._magic_. It's frustrating as hell."

"I know," Jon nodded with understanding. "Would you believe I ran across Trip by accident?"

"No!"

He smiled at Trip, who was teaching T'Pol a turn now. "The best decision I made for _Enterprise_ was Trip."

"Which gets us to why I'm here," Erika eased in delicately. "You don't suppose he'd let me entice him into jumping ship to _Columbia_...?"

Jon smiled. "Not likely."

"Promotion? Promise of the XO spot once the engines are humming?" Jon just shook his head. "Come on," Erika persisted. "I haven't found anyone with half his expertise or experience. He's a genius."

"Which is why I put him on _Enterprise_," Jon said.

"You've had him for over three years! It's time to share."

Jon waved her toward the dance floor. "Go ahead, ask him. Waste your time. I'll wait here."

She watched Trip with a sigh. "Is it that hopeless?"

Jon shrugged. "If you're really nice about it, he might let you borrow him for a few weeks. But I doubt he'd stay away any longer."

"What is so special about _Enterprise_ that..." Erika's voice trailed off as she saw Trip and T'Pol meet each other's eyes. "...Oh. That's why. I didn't know."

"Know what?"

"That he and T'Pol are...you know..."

"Friends?" Jon supplied helpfully.

She sniggered. "C'mon. That look they're giving each other screams out Torrid Sex-Drenched Love Affair."

"She's married already," Jon clarified. "They're _friends_."

Erika looked at him in frank disbelief. "Are you sure?"

"As sure as I'm sitting here," he replied with quiet sincerity.

The tone of his voice got Erika's attention. She eyed Trip and T'Pol again. "She's married...they're just friends...but they look at each other like they're eternal soulmates?"

"It's complicated," Jon said.

Erika pursed her lips. "That clears things right up for me. Thanks, Jon."

"Any time."

"But it still leaves me Chief Engineer-less."

A slow smile spread on Jon's face as an idea came to him. "I know of another engineer who could probably do as good a job for you as Trip. He's got plenty of command experience, too—he'd make a fine XO. He'd be a good stop-gap until you find a permanent Chief Engineer. Who knows, he might even want to stay on permanently. I've never discussed it with him..."

Erika was leaning forward eagerly now. "Who? Who is this miracle man?"

Jon grinned. "Lorian. He learned everything he knows from his old man. He has about eighty years experience with the NX-class Warp 5 engine. I'll bet he knows more tricks on how to get her to go than every other engineer in Starfleet, combined. Admiral Forrest all but told me the brass will be offering him a commission as Commander as soon as they finish fooling with the red tape."

Erika couldn't help but be intrigued. "But doesn't he want a command of his own?"

"We've never talked about it. But it's possible that, after everything he went through in the Expanse, he wants to take a break from command and just be an engineer for a while."

Erika studied Lorian for a moment, noting the way he was dancing with Karyn. "Does Karyn go with him?"

"She's a first-class helm officer. Do you have all of yours picked out yet?"

"How good a pilot is she?"

"She's an Archer!" he said stoutly, almost offended.

Implacably, Erika simply folded her arms. "How good is she?"

Jon folded _his_ arms. "She landed _Enterprise_ practically dead-stick on a planet surface after their last battle. Didn't even break a viewport."

She whistled in admiration. "Good God."

"They're yours for the asking, as soon as Starfleet puts them in uniform."

Suddenly her face fell. "Wait. What about the no-fraternization rule?"

Jon wasn't swayed. "According to the record, I personally absolved that crew of the no-frat rule 117 years ago."

"Jon..."

Jon took her hand, turning serious. "Just go with it, Erika. They can be as discreet as you need them to be. Besides, I doubt Starfleet will be hassling this crew over anything for a while. It owes them too much." He raised his eyebrows expectantly. "So? What do you say?"

Erika broke into an exasperated smile. "Damn you, Jon. I come here for _one thing_, and ten minutes later, you have me considering three other things."

He spread his hands. "Just looking after my family."

They both turned their attention back to the dance floor. Lorian and Karyn were holding each other close, in their own world as they swayed to the music. Nearby, Trip and T'Pol were enjoying themselves, adding turns to their routine.

Erika noticed Jon's pensive expression. "What are you thinking?" she asked softly.

He smiled gently as he continued to watch. "Just that these four people are very dear to me, and I want them to be happy."

"I'd hazard a guess that Lorian and Karyn are already there," Erika observed.

Jon nodded with warm satisfaction. "Love at first sight, a lifetime in the making. They're a good match." He grew wistful again, as he watched Trip laughing, twirling T'Pol gracefully around. "Trip and T'Pol have never had it easy. They probably never will. But they deserve the chance to try."

"What about her husband?" Erika asked.

"It's complicated," Jon said again. "But I have reason to be hopeful." A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Stranger fairy tales have happy endings."

-tbc-


	6. Chapter 6

**Each Touch a Promise**

Disclaimer: Star Trek: Enterprise is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.

A/N: Thanks for your reviews! I have really been enjoying them. I appreciate your interest in the series.

* * *

_Chapter 6_

As Callahan's jazz band held the last note of the swing-era number, Lorian bent Karyn back in a slow, luxurious dip, keeping his face close to hers. There was appreciative applause from the other couples, not only for the music, but for Lorian and Karyn's mesmerizing dancing.

On the far side of the dance floor, Trip and T'Pol watched their son and his beloved. "That boy sure has loosened up since the last time we saw him," Trip remarked. "Come to think of it, he's loosened up a lot in the last hour."

T'Pol secretly marveled at how comfortable Lorian was with his emotions, while sacrificing none of his logic. "No doubt his time in the Expanse taught him the benefits of adapting," she replied.

Trip cocked his head at her. "You need to adapt to being in love?"

"Think back to the first time you experienced love," T'Pol told him. "Then imagine yourself a Vulcan first experiencing love. It is a profound adjustment."

Trip nodded slowly as her words sank in. "But...worthwhile, _t'hai'la?_" he asked gently. She inclined her head in assent, and he smiled at her.

As Lorian slowly pulled Karyn upright, he realized his heart was pounding, and he felt uncommonly warm. "Has there been a sudden rise in the room's temperature?"

"Not that I've noticed." Karyn batted her eyes playfully at him. "It must be the nearness of me."

"Undoubtedly." Lorian kept his arm snugly around her waist as he let his eyes roam over her face. The increase in temperature seemed to have rendered her even more beautiful, somehow.

She blushed a little under his gaze. "What is it?"

"I find myself wishing for this never to end," he murmured.

Tenderly, she touched his cheek with her fingertips. "Then we'll dance together forever." At that moment she spotted her great-grandfather beckoning her toward the table. "But first, I think Papa wants us to meet his lady friend."

- - -

Erika Hernandez knew after less than a minute that, despite Lorian's unfailing grace and attention, this was not the time or place to discuss a possible Starfleet posting as Chief Engineer on _Columbia_ with him. His focus was clearly on Karyn Archer, even when he wasn't looking at her.

Erika gave the conversation two more minutes, to be polite, before making a tactical retreat. "Okay, enough shop talk. I'm tired of feeling like a stick-in-the-mud." She pulled Jon to his feet. "Time to dance."

"Aye, Captain," he replied smartly, and off they headed to the dance floor, nodding as they went to Trip and T'Pol, who were smoothing out their fledgling foxtrot.

Karyn turned to Lorian. "How about you?"

Lorian felt curiously lightheaded, but it was a pleasant sensation. "Let's sit for a while."

She nodded contentedly, resting her hand lightly on his arm. Her touch elicited a sudden, disconcertingly strong surge of desire in him—complete with the characteristic physical response. He was mortified by his lack of control...especially when he realized that part of him was even more deliciously aroused at the possibility that Karyn might discover his condition. Only the lucky drape of the tablecloth spared him.

Even as he regained control over his uncooperative body, he was powerless to take his eyes off Karyn. He felt himself increasingly drawn to her, his need for her becoming an ache of longing. What in the name of Surak was happening to him? 

On the dance floor, Jon led Erika through a slow, stylish one-step that matched the élan of the saxophonist's heartfelt solo. "I would have thought you'd be talking to Lorian all night," he remarked.

Erika glanced back at the table, where Lorian was looking at Karyn as if no one else existed for him in the universe. "Not tonight," she replied. Eyeing Jon invitingly, she continued, "I have other plans. Do you think the rest of the family would mind if I stole you away?"

He smiled at her. "I think that could be arranged."

* * *

With Archer and Erika off on their own, and the hour late, Trip and T'Pol opted to stay overnight at the Starfleet compound rather than take the shuttle back to _Enterprise_. Lorian and Karyn walked them to the lobby of the guest wing to arrange for quarters, and there the four said their goodnights, planning to meet for breakfast the next morning before contacting T'Les.

Following that awkward moment of supremely sweet torture at Callahan's, Lorian had managed to compel his body to behave itself...outwardly, at least. But he was feeling increasingly feverish, and his vision stubbornly refused to focus clearly on anything, save Karyn. As he escorted her to her quarters, he found himself taking her hand, needing to touch her. She smiled shyly as they walked hand in hand through the shadowy corridors.

After she opened her door, she turned to him, her eyes shining. "Tonight felt...different. Magical. I know it's not logical, but..."

"I felt it as well," Lorian said softly. Her nearness was intoxicating to him. "I feel it even now..."

Karyn saw that his face was slightly flushed, his ardent gaze focused wholly on her. She felt a thrill of desire as he drew closer. Then he was kissing her deeply, so deeply. 

Lorian felt the corridor spinning around him as he shut his eyes and steeped himself in her...the feel of her tongue dancing with his, her lashes tickling his cheeks, her fingers lightly stroking his chest through the soft fabric of his tunic. With a moan of yearning, he took her face in his hands and delved even deeper, trying to taste her soul.

At last she drew back, trembling with need for him. She reached up to caress his face...and paused, feeling beads of perspiration on his brow. His skin was hot, too hot. "You feel feverish."

"Do I?" His blood felt as if it was burning for her, only her. He took her in his arms and kissed her again, hungrily, trying to quench the fire. She responded eagerly, pulling him closer. Keeping his mouth on hers, he moved with her into her room until he had her backed up to the wall, his body pressed against hers. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, and his blood surging in sync with it.

He heard Karyn humming softly with pleasure as he trailed hot kisses down her jawline to her throat. As he nuzzled her skin, moving lower, he encountered an obstacle...her dress. He tried to pull it aside, but the fabric was taut over her bosom. With an impatient growl, he yanked, ripping the shoulder seam loose. The fabric fell away, revealing one perfect breast. Karyn gasped, her hand reflexively moving up. Intent on her bare skin, Lorian grabbed her by the wrist to immobilize her—

"Lorian?"

The sound of her voice stopped him. He blinked, refocusing...saw her torn dress, her exposed breast, and his too-tight hold on her arm, the skin painfully white. His eyes rose to her face, taking in the sight of her lips, swollen from his kisses, and her eyes still half-glazed with passion, but now filling with concern.

The room reeled around him. His blood was roaring in his ears, burning for her...even now, even after what he had done, what he'd been about to do. He stumbled back from her, horrified, ashamed, unable to meet her eyes. "Forgive me," he whispered. "I'm sorry..."

Then he was gone, leaving Karyn terribly confused, and wondering what was wrong.

- - -

Trip and T'Pol were coming down the corridor, searching for their guest rooms, when they heard Karyn's soft, imploring voice nearby. "You've never locked your door to me before. Please let me in..."

Following the plaintive voice, they rounded a corner to find Karyn in front of Lorian's quarters. "Talk to me, Lorian," she pleaded to the door. "Tell me what's happening."

As Trip came closer, he saw that Karyn's hair was mussed, and her lovely dress had been torn off one shoulder. She was clutching onto the front to hold it up—and there were fresh bruises on her wrist. "Karyn? What's going on?"

She turned to them, startled, then looked down uncertainly. Trip was stunned. "Don't tell me Lorian did this."

Karyn hesitated, then finally looked up at them again. "I think there's something wrong with him."

- - -

The door chime sounded again, but Lorian made no move to answer. He couldn't bear the thought of facing her after his unconscionable behavior. And yet his need for her was stronger than ever...

"Lorian? It's your dad."

Lorian put his spinning head in his hands. This was even _worse_.

"I'm not goin' anywhere," he heard Trip say. "You might as well let me in."

Lorian groaned with exasperation. He supposed it couldn't possibly get any more embarrassing. He reached up to the security panel on the wall and punched in the lock code. The door to the still-dark room slid open, admitting his father—and then his mother. 

Lorian felt an intense urge to crawl under the bed. Apparently it _could_ get more embarrassing.

Trip peered into the dimness, finally spotting Lorian sitting on the floor in the corner, his knees drawn up to his chest. He was bathed in sweat, his face flushed. "Do you feel as bad as you look?" Trip asked, as T'Pol knelt by her son's side to examine him.

"I deserve to feel much worse," Lorian said morosely. "My conduct toward Karyn was reprehensible."

"That's not exactly the way she tells it," Trip replied. "She's worried about you."

T'Pol noted Lorian's heart rate and temperature, then studied his skin tone. She ran her fingers soothingly across his fevered brow. "You appear to have entered _pon farr_."

Lorian found himself laughing in disbelief. He felt so dizzy. "No, it can't be that...I'm not subject to _pon farr_."

"The symptoms are quite distinctive," T'Pol maintained. "Although yours seem to have developed with astonishing speed."

"Mother, I'm a hundred and one, and I have never entered _pon farr!_" Lorian snapped with sudden irritation. "If I had inherited that trait from you, it would have come upon me long before now."

Trip glanced uneasily at T'Pol. Lorian's quicksilver emotions were even more jarring than his appearance.

"You are half-Vulcan," T'Pol told Lorian evenly. "A genetically-engineered hybrid, the result of a unique combination of factors fashioned by Dr. Phlox's design. Even for Denobulans, genetics is not a precise science. The extent of your physiological makeup cannot be predicted with certainty."

Lorian shook his head, confused, unwilling to accept what she was telling him.

T'Pol hesitated. "Perhaps you are correct. Your condition suggests late-stage _pon farr_, which takes days to reach. Yet you showed no symptoms on the way here, or at Callahan's."

"There was...something amiss, at the club," Lorian confessed. "When we met Captain Hernandez, I was feverish, dizzy. Afterward, Karyn touched my arm, and I felt..." He trailed off, deeply self-conscious.

"What?" Trip prompted.

"A...physical urge," Lorian finally said. Suddenly, he experienced the same powerful swell of desire that he had felt at Callahan's. His mind was inundated with images of Karyn, touching him, kissing him. He kept his eyes downcast, struggling to calm his ragged breathing. "It's happening again, and she's not even here..."

T'Pol studied him, wavering between a scientist's scrutiny and a mother's concern. "The mating urge must be a recessive trait in your case. Evidently it was activated by some element unique to you..."

"No!" Lorian declared fiercely, rebelling again. "What you're suggesting is not possible. The Vulcan male sexual response is triggered solely by internal means—endocrine secretions, the hormonal cascade..."

Trip was beginning to see how the pieces of the puzzle fit together. "But human sexual response, aside from puberty, is triggered externally—by sight, sound, touch. And emotionally...by affection. Love."

T'Pol caught up with him. "Karyn..."

It all made a ghastly kind of sense. Lorian leaned his head back against the wall, trying vainly to stop the room from spinning so crazily.

Trip touched his son's arm, and Lorian jumped, startled. "This is the first time you've had feelings for someone, isn't it?" Trip asked.

Lorian nodded slowly. "We spoke of it this evening...playful banter, I thought. But afterward, our dancing began to feel...especially intimate..."

"Love plus desire," acknowledged Trip. "It's a powerful combination."

"Powerful enough to awaken a heretofore dormant mating cycle," T'Pol agreed. "The highly accelerated rate of onset is owed, presumably, to his unique heritage. The cycle's duration may also differ from the Vulcan norm of seven years; only time will reveal that."

"So after living a century, I am finally coming of age?" Lorian chuckled with withering irony. "And I demonstrate my newfound maturity by misusing the woman I love, then fleeing like a frightened child."

Trip regarded him with sympathy. "I dunno why, but there seems to be a cosmic law that says your first time has to be a little embarrassing."

"Embarrassing does not _begin_ to describe the present circumstances," Lorian muttered sourly.

He was perspiring more freely now, beginning to tremble from head to foot. T'Pol checked his vital signs again. "Your heart rate and fever have risen to dangerously high levels." She held his face, forcing him to look at her. "Lorian, you must quench the blood fever soon. Within an hour, two at most."

Lorian pulled away with a moan of protest. Trip watched with open concern. "Or...?"

T'Pol kept an attentive eye on her son as she explained. "Lorian's system is being thrown out of balance, flooded with hormones and stimulants—similar to the human stress response, but at an exponential rate. The neurochemical imbalance is compelling him to take a mate or die trying. If it is not corrected, it will kill him."

Trip ran a hand through his hair, fighting down a rising tide of dread. "So—mating corrects it?"

But all Lorian could picture in his fevered mind's eye was the shock on Karyn's face when he was poised to tear her dress from her body. Over and over, he heard her gasp, saw the confusion in her face. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the detestable sounds and images, even as his blood continued to burn for her. "There are other means," he managed to say. "Meditation..."

T'Pol shook her head. "Rarely effective. And for a first _pon farr_, virtually useless."

"Injections?"

"Your condition has advanced too far, too fast," T'Pol countered. "The typical hormone injections could not act quickly enough to have any effect."

"What about...Karyn?" Trip asked carefully.

"No!" Lorian furiously exclaimed.

Trip was enormously uncomfortable about all of this, and confused as hell on how to handle it. But he had no doubt about what he'd seen between Lorian and Karyn at Callahan's. "Lorian, this whole thing started because you chose each other. You love each other—"

"It is too dangerous!" Lorian cried. His anger vanished as quickly as it had come, replaced by apprehension. "She is not Vulcan. I have three times her strength. If I forget myself again—" He stopped, unable to push the disturbing images away.

Trip and T'Pol traded a sober glance. "What happened?" Trip asked.

Lorian's voice was barely a whisper, shaking with shame. "I was kissing her...tasting her...my blood burning for her..." He swallowed hard. "I betrayed her trust. I was about to force myself on her. I nearly—" He stopped again, pressing his fingers to his throbbing temples, trying to steady his reeling senses. "It is not merely a matter of doing her harm. When I lose control completely, I could easily kill her."

"You won't lose control, because you _didn't_," came a voice from the doorway.

Lorian looked up to see Karyn standing there, a portrait of calm, loving determination. He shrank away, his fevered mind swimming with humiliation. "No, Karyn, you must not...not after what I did."

"You didn't betray my trust, Lorian. You surprised me, that's all." She gestured to her torn dress with a little half-shrug. "You're not exactly the rip-the-clothes-off-the-girl type."

He shifted restlessly, hyper-aware of her as she came into the room.

"And you wouldn't have been forcing me, either." Karyn was all too conscious of Trip and T'Pol, but she just let the blush rise to her cheeks as she kept talking to Lorian. "I wanted it as much as you. I've wanted this to happen for forever."

Lorian ventured a hesitant glance at her. He wanted desperately to believe her.

"You didn't hurt me, Lorian," she told him. "You stopped yourself. You're not capable of hurting me."

He gestured helplessly to her purpling wrist. "It is inevitable! It is _pon farr!_"

"You heard your parents," Karyn went on, her voice quiet with certainty. "You're unique. It doesn't matter how any other Vulcan reacts, or how every other Vulcan has reacted."

Lorian wavered, torn, his eyes haunted. "I can't risk you..."

She came a step closer, and now he could see distress shadowing her features...and, unexpectedly, anger. "Lorian, this is happening because of me, because you love me. Do you think I'm going to let you push me away? You think I'm going to stand here and watch you die?"

Lorian knew then that she would not leave him. The realization left him deeply moved, and yet sick with fear.

Karyn turned her attention to Trip and T'Pol. "Thank you for getting me in the door."

It was a polite but clear dismissal; Karyn was taking charge now. Trip and T'Pol exchanged a wordless glance of assent. Trip put his hand briefly on his son's shoulder, and then he and T'Pol moved to leave. 

T'Pol paused at the doorway. Karyn saw deep respect in her eyes...and for the first time, affection. "Lorian chose well," she said. Karynsmiled in thanks.

Trip gave Karyn a kiss on the forehead in loving benediction. As he turned to leave, she stopped him. "Trip...whatever you do, don't breathe a word of this to Papa." 

With a faint sigh of understanding, Trip nodded. Then he and T'Pol left them alone.

Karyn studied Lorian from across the room. His face was shining with perspiration, his lips moist and slightly parted, his eyes bright with the fever. His expression was nakedly unguarded. The only sound in the room was his slow, labored breathing. He looked more vulnerable than she'd ever seen him...and more beautiful, even in his agony. "How do you feel?" she asked.

He wouldn't look at her. "Even more discomfited than when I was discussing this with my parents."

Carefully, Karyn began to move toward him. With each step she took, Lorian felt himself pulsing with heat. His awareness was shrinking, centering on her. She was becoming the totality of all that he was, or would be...his body, his life's breath, his beating heart, his very soul.

"I should have known Vulcans would have a really messed-up way of handling this," she said. "Your life at risk just for being in love."

"In fact, Vulcan marriages are largely pre-arranged, devoid of affection." He was rambling now; it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to concentrate. "The bondmates are virtual strangers, driven by instinct, not love, to mate or die. In time they develop a connection, if they are fortunate..."

"That's sad."

"It is the Vulcan way." Lorian blinked, peering fuzzily at her. "Why are we discussing this...?"

"I'm trying to keep your higher brain functioning as long as possible." Karyn fidgeted. "Plus...I'm nervous."

"Ah," Lorian nodded dizzily. "So you _do_ believe I'm going to turn into a mindless, rutting animal who will break you in half during sex."

"No." She shrugged self-consciously as she took another step closer. She had closed the distance between them to a meter. "It's just...you're not the only one dealing with 'first time' issues."

Slowly, it dawned on him. "You have never...?"

Karyn blushed deeply, but she didn't look away. "I've loved you since I was nine years old, Lorian. I've worked with you every day on the bridge since I was eighteen. Being with another man held no interest for me. I was waiting for you."

Lorian wondered if he would ever stop being overwhelmed by her. He was profoundly touched, but... "I _will_ hurt you, then," he said miserably.

"Not possible," Karyn replied. She knelt before him, smiling tenderly. "I've wanted my whole life to be yours."

Lorian swayed unsteadily as he looked at her. "How can you be certain that I won't lose all control as the fever overtakes me?"

"Have I been wrong about you yet?" Karyn smiled again, coyly. "I'll try to be boring."

"Not possible," he echoed. A tremor of raw need passed through him. The ache inside him was frightening in its power now. 

Karyn released her hold on her torn dress, letting the fabric flutter to her waist, revealing herself to him. He filled his eyes with her, as the rest of the world faded away. She took his sweat-bathed face in her hands, and he gasped softly. "Do you trust me, Lorian?"

"Always." He gazed into the loving welcome of her deep brown eyes. "Save me," he whispered.

She stroked his face, her fingers deliciously cool and sweet against his fevered skin. Then she kissed him, her mouth moving slowly over his, edging his lips open, going deeper. His hands were gripping her waist now, holding on for dear life. His blood sang in his ears, a white-hot fire, calling for her. Still, he held himself back.

"Don't be afraid, love," she breathed against his mouth. "Let go. I'll hold onto you."

With a shuddering sigh, he obeyed her, falling into her embrace, losing himself in her kiss, letting the fire engulf him completely.

* * *

It was starting to lighten outside when Lorian stirred and opened his eyes, still nestled in the safe comfort of Karyn's arms. She was already awake, watching him, her face framed by stray wisps of ebony hair in pleasing disarray.

"You have been observing me as I sleep." His baritone voice was a soft caress. "Do I look different?"

She smiled. "More peaceful."

"I should think so."

"Do you feel different?" she asked.

Lorian brushed back a lock of her hair as he considered her question. The fire inside him had finally cooled, and now her touch suffused him with a pleasing thrum of contentment. The previous night's developments had certainly accelerated the progression of their courtship, to put it mildly. Their unfettered honesty and trust had enabled them to give themselves utterly to one another, which had deepened their feelings and confirmed their mutual devotion. Lorian knew with crystal clarity that he and Karyn belonged together, and that it would always be so. "I feel complete," he said at last.

"Because you're not a _pon farr_ virgin anymore?" Karyn teased gently.

He stroked her cheek with his fingertips, and she leaned into his touch. "Because my soul has found its mate."

Karyn felt a wave of sweetness filling her heart, catching in her throat, bringing tears to her eyes. "Lorian...?"

He caught her hand in his and kissed it. "In these few weeks, you have shared your dreams with me and given your heart to me. You awakened my passions, saved my life, and taught me how to love. I have never felt so cherished." He sat up, bringing her with him. "Karyn, our hearts are already bound together. It would seem the next step in our courtship is for me to offer myself as bondmate to you, if you will have me."

Karyn smiled radiantly, even as a tear spilled down her cheek. With infinite tenderness, Lorian brushed it away. He returned her smile, his love for her plain on his face. "Shall we dance together forever, Karyn Archer?"

"Yes, Lorian," she replied happily. "Let's dance." With that, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly.

- - -

Trip and T'Pol sat at a corner table in the cafeteria. They hadn't bothered going through the motions of normalcy by getting any food. And sleep last night had not even been a possibility.

Trip glanced at T'Pol out of the corner of his eye. He sensed her disquiet, but at least she had the advantage of that maddeningly serene-looking Vulcan composure. In Trip's case, it was all he could do not to jump up and start pacing. He wondered if he'd waited long enough to go bust down Lorian's door and see if they were both all right.

As if reading his mind, T'Pol said softly, "Have patience, _t'hai'la_."

Trip rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Right."

Then they heard Karyn's bright voice. "Good morning."

Karyn and Lorian were approaching the table, alive and well—glowing with happiness, in fact. Trip grinned with relief. "Hey, you two." He even saw T'Pol allowing herself a small sigh as she relaxed.

"All is well again," Lorian said succinctly. "Karyn was correct in her assessment that I would react in a manner reflecting my unique makeup."

"He never tried to kill me," Karyn translated helpfully. Trip laughed out loud.

"Mother," Lorian said, "when you contact T'Les, she will have two new family members to meet." He glanced to Karyn, who slipped her arm through his. "Karyn and I have agreed to marry."

Trip whooped with joy, grabbing Lorian and Karyn up in one of his patented bear hugs, as T'Pol looked on with satisfaction. 

As he released them, Trip spotted Captain Archer threading his way toward them through the tables, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. Archer greeted the four of them with a pleasant, albeit curious, smile. "What'd I miss?"

-fin-


End file.
